My friend and I decided to spend what we hoped would be an edifying afternoon wandering around the recently renovated Kensington Palace. Of course this was my idea, since Paul would have us visit Chihuly or something at the Royal Academy, which is all very well by me but for some reason I got it into my head that Kensington Palace was a 'must see'. And so we went, full of eagerness and formless expectation. However, as with most things in life it is the things we most eagerly anticipate that leave the blandest of impressions.
The Palace was a senseless collection of bizarre and disjointed exhibits. We walked around trying to make sense of it and discover any semblance of an overarching theme; I quickly gave up and spent the rest of the time muttering quiet denunciations under my breath.
One of the main problems was that the exhibition was so muddled and there was virtually no information explaining the significance of things like the porcelain birds hanging from the ceiling, the rather macabre infant's chairs or the eerily lit dolls houses. The only part I enjoyed was listening to an exceptionally enthusiastic account of Queen Victoria's deep and enduring love for Albert, which had me cooing and left me a little misty eyed.
Apart from that, would 100% not go again. As the title of this post suggests, the second part of the afternoon was far more satisfactory.